Page 11 of Centering Kaos

“Got something on your nose there, Parker,” someone else added. “Should probably shove that beak further up Orwell’s ass to wipe it off.”

“Oh, come on, you all know I didn’t invite Orwell,” Matt argued, turning to face the group. “Which one of you assholes set me up?”

Tina said mentioning the boss would stir up a hornet’s nest, and it sure did. I was only hoping Matt didn’t refuse the pies to appease his boys. Doing my best to play the role of a disinterested minimum wage employee, I said, “Look, man, they’re paid for, and I have other deliveries to make. Eat ’em, toss ’em out, give ’em away, I don’t care. I just need your signature on this line so I can bounce.” I angled the boxes toward him and held out the pen.

“If that old bastard ever shows up to watch a game with us, I’m out,” someone announced.

“Yeah, me, too.” Matt said, taking the pen from me. “Next game, you all better bring your own beer, because I’m not supplying if you’re gonna treat me like this.”

He signed the receipt, and I gave myself a mental fist bump as I pocketed the paper and slid the packet of paperwork out from its hiding spot between the boxes. I slapped it on top and passed everything to Matt.

He instinctually accepted the package even as confusion contorted his face. “What the hell is this?”

I gave him a shit-eating grin and took a big step back, preparing to make my escape. “Divorce papers. Congrats, motherfucker, you've been served.”

The shock that registered across his features was some next level shit. Pleased, I turned to leave.

“Divorce…? Served? Wait. Tina… Have you seen my wife? Where is she?”

He sounded genuinely concerned. No, more like heartbroken and desperate. Had I not seen the proof of his brutality, I would have second-guessed the situation. Now understanding why Emily and Naomi had shared the photos with me, I ignored him and kept walking.

“Please, you have to help me. She’s… she’s messed up in the head. I’m worried about her, man. If you have any idea where she is… I only want to get her some help, you know?”

“I’m sure you do,” I said over my shoulder, not buying his lies for a second. “I'm sure you’d like to beat some help right into her, asshole.”

I almost made it to the Subaru before he shouted at me to wait. I’d had enough of his bullshit, so I gave him what he wanted. I stopped and turned to face him. “What?”

“Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

After what he’d done, he had no right to ask. And that forced concern in his eyes… it only made me want to knock his ass out. “She’s still sporting the bruises from when you tried to strangle her, but she’s good. Way to show concern about your victim. It’s really fuckin’ believable.” I gave him two thumbs up like the smartass I was.

His expression fell. “That wasn’t me. I didn’t lay a hand on her. She has some mental problems and she… Man, I think she’s self-harming. She’s a danger to herself and our son.”

I was onto him, but that clearly didn’t mean a damn thing. The bastard was still trying to convince me. And he was good… really fucking good. I wondered if he believed himself. Goddamn pathological liar. He might be able to gaslight the authorities, but his sad expression and business-casual khakis and button down on a Sunday didn’t fool me. I didn’t trust men who weren’t even comfortable enough to dress down on a weekend. “Sure. She strangled herself. Seems perfectly legit. For the record, I’m not interested in any Arizona ocean front property you have to sell, either.”

“How dare you.” He glanced behind him, but we didn’t have a crowd. Everyone was more interested in the game than they were the delivery man. Matt straightened his shoulders—so he no longer looked like a kicked puppy—but kept up his game. “I would never hurt my wife. I just want her back safe.”

I chuckled, letting a little of my anger seep into the sound. “Yeah? Well, I’m pretty sure back with you is the most dangerous place she can be. Stay away from her if you know what's good for you.”

Emboldened by my jab, he leaned forward. “That a threat?” Taking in my worn jeans, T-shirt, and boots, he turned his nose up at me like I wasn’t shit. I hadn’t bought his innocent routine, so now the bastard was trying to put me in my place. “By a delivery boy? Maybe you should stay in your lane so you don’t get hurt.”

Thought his nice house and high-paying job made him a bigger man, did he? Didn't matter. I knew who the fuck I was. Let him underestimate me; I enjoyed it. One phone call, and my financial advisor could liquefy enough assets to buy Matt’s company and send him packing if I really wanted to.

But I was not about to let him think he could bully me. “If you think you can put me back in my lane, you’re welcome to get your scrawny ass over here and try.”

I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but it was enough to make him look me up and down and realize I was a hell of a lot bigger than he. His social status wouldn’t mean shit when I knocked out his teeth and put him in the hospital. Snapping his mouth shut, he wisely turned and went back into his house.

Disappointed, but content with the outcome of our little confrontation, I got behind the wheel and called Emily. She must have had her phone in hand, because it didn’t even ring before she answered.

“Kaos? How did it go?”

“Made the drop. Chickenhawk signed.”

Sounding relieved, she laughed. “Chickenhawk, huh?”

“Trust me, it’s fitting. This shithead struts like a hawk, but clucks like a fuckin’ chicken.”

“An alive and uninjured chicken, I trust?”

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